The Tree

The Tree- My bark is worn from time and life My steady branches have withstood much strife The life blood that raged in my youth Its edges raw and at times uncouth Time has polished and as steel has hardened As I have stood watch faithfully in my garden My saplings I have sheltered and nourished Their tiny sprouts have grown and flourished My work here is almost done and I was content to stand silent in the sun However, one day as I stood alone Came a carpenter with hands gentle and strong He looked past my peeling ragged bark and Found my barely beating heart. He has caused me to dream of my youth again Of beauty, peace and the passion of men I am his project to mold and to make A challenge only he is equipped to take I stand here now curious to see What this craftsman can make of me.